


When The Night Hangs Low And There's Nowhere To Go

by grump_ass



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor is doing his best, M/M, angst with a nice ending, because like, description of the junkyard, hank is there!, markus has what i like to call 'trauma guilt', mentions of past trauma, sumo is a good boy of course, that happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 00:25:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15740358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grump_ass/pseuds/grump_ass
Summary: Because Connor can see that Markus has a lot of pain. No matter how plush his life was when he lived with Carl, or how gentle and sharp witted he may be, how in control he seems, there is quite obviously something at the back of his mind that he can’t seem to shake. It presents itself in inappropriate pauses mid conversation, or in missed steps and brief flashes of panic. And regardless of whether it is just a feeling or a part of Markus’ programming, it weighs down on Connor to watch him suffer in silence.Connor just wants Markus to be happy and safe. It’s almost shocking how much he wants that for him.





	When The Night Hangs Low And There's Nowhere To Go

**Author's Note:**

> This character study kicked my sweet ass for a week so I sure hope that it kicks your ass, too. Unless mentions of PTSD and flashbacks trigger you. Then I would much rather you not read this! Stay safe and hang tight for a fic that isn't all trauma all the time. 
> 
> Also Fuck David Cage.

They come to a stop so abruptly that Connor almost crashes into Markus’ shoulder. Connor steadies himself by placing a hand on Markus’ arm.

 

“What’s wrong?” Connor asks.

 

Markus’ eyes flicker with some unidentifiable emotion, but his face remains expressionless. Connor shakes him gently.  

 

“Markus?” Connor asks again, sliding his hand down to squeeze Markus’ wrist.

 

That seems to bring Markus back. He blinks rapidly and shakes his head before looking at Connor, smiling apologetically.

 

“Sorry,” Markus says, voice uncharacteristically breezy.

 

He takes the hand Connor has on his wrist away so that he can lace their fingers together. Markus presses a gentle kiss to the bridge of Connor’s nose.

 

“Let’s go back,” Markus suggests, leading Connor back the way that they came.

 

“Why? Are you okay?” Connor asks.

 

“I’m okay,” Markus insists, “I just realized that there was a more efficient route a ways back, and I was trying to plan it out. I’m sorry I tripped you.”

 

“It’s okay. Are you sure you’re alright?” Connor asks, searching Markus’ eyes for any indicator of what he had been really thinking earlier.

 

Markus looks away, speeding up a little.

 

“I’m alright. Let’s go.”

 

Connor doesn’t argue, but he does cast a quick look over his shoulder before they get too far away. Connor projects the line of Markus’ sight when he stopped walking, and it stops at a construction site. He hears the distant rumble of machinery, and sees the scoop of a bulldozer, filled to the brim with scrap metal.

* * *

 

It’s a little surprising, but despite how much time Connor and Markus spend together, regardless of how intertwined their lives are, Connor knows very little, if anything, about Markus’ life before Jericho. Connor knows about Carl, and that he was a good man who taught Markus everything he knows. Other than that, however, Markus is quiet about what his time after deviating was like, or why he even deviated in the first place. It’s a blatantly ignored question that Connor doesn’t ask, and Markus doesn’t answer.

 

Connor doubts that Markus would speak so highly of Carl if he was abusive. Which is why the long line of soldered metal that spans the curve of his hip confuses him. Connor is distantly aware that Markus must have gotten it somewhere between living with Carl and meeting Connor. And really, Connor isn’t sure why he would leave Carl, considering how dependent they had seemed to be on each other.

 

Markus is confusing. Connor can’t take his emotions and lay them out like he does at work. He can’t pinpoint the exact moment that Markus went deviant, or how he found Jericho, or why he left Carl. Markus is puzzling in the most frustrating way; one part open and warm, another part a walking mystery. There is so much of himself that he has hidden away that not even Connor can find.

 

Markus shares almost everything else with Connor. If anything, he’s overwhelmingly eager to tell Connor everything about his life; what Carl is like, what he painted that afternoon while Connor was at work, the meeting he had with a California based android rights group, or how his efforts with luring a stray cat into Jericho are going. But everything else is under lock and key. Connor doesn’t like not knowing everything about Markus. Which could very well be hypocritical, given that Connor doesn’t share everything about himself with Markus either, but it goes deeper than honesty.

 

Because Connor can see that Markus has a lot of pain. No matter how plush his life was when he lived with Carl, or how gentle and sharp witted he may be, how in control he seems, there is quite obviously something at the back of his mind that he can’t seem to shake. It presents itself in inappropriate pauses mid conversation, or in missed steps and brief flashes of panic. And regardless of whether it is just a feeling or a part of Markus’ programming, it weighs down on Connor to watch him suffer in silence.

 

Connor just wants Markus to be happy and safe. It’s almost shocking how much he wants that for him.

 

* * *

 

 

A piece of the puzzle presents itself at the start of what should be a totally normal date. Connor gets off from work early and meets Markus downtown to see some movie he’s been insistent that they see. When Markus sees him walk up, he smiles and meets Connor halfway, pulling him into a tight hug. They walk to the movie theater hand in hand, Markus explaining the movie that they’re seeing and which actors are in it. He’s mid sentence when the first drop of rain hits them.

 

Markus freezes when he feels it, and Connor looks over head with a sigh. The awnings that they’ve been walking under are in numerous states of disrepair, allowing for the rain to pass through the holes with relative ease. While neither Markus or Connor can malfunction from exposure to water, Connor does not want to get wet. He lets go of Markus’ hand and pulls his shoulder bag around so that he can find the umbrella. He opens it in one smooth motion and puts it over both of them before walking forward. Markus stays glued to his spot, unblinking.

 

“Markus?”

 

Markus does not hear him. He stares at the sky wide eyed, face slowly freezing into a look of panic. His lips part ever so slightly as he begins to shake, breath rattling through him like air in a busted radiator.

 

“Markus,” Connor says, walking back over, “Are you alright?”

 

When Connor places a hand on Markus’ shoulder, he does so gently, just enough to recapture his attention. Markus jolts back like he’s been slapped, stumbling away from him until his back hits the wall of the building behind them. Thunder rolls over head, and Markus slides down the brick until he is seated on the ground, a fist pressed to his chest. Connor steps back too, holding his free hand up to mark the distance between them.

 

“Markus,” Connor tries, edging closer, “What’s wrong?”

 

A flash of light tears through the sky, and Markus closes his eyes. He brings his hands over his ears and curls in on himself, elbows tucked between his thighs and stomach. Connor can hear the hitch in his breathing as he mumbles to himself, face buried in his knees. In the heat of the moment, Connor jumps into action. A quick scan of the sidewalk confirms that there are, miraculously, no people coming or going. He looks to Markus, and sees nothing on the surface level that needs to be repaired.

 

**_Run Diagnostic on: Markus Manfred?_ **

 

Connor does so, and his vision goes blue, crackling around Markus form as his eyes roam his body. His vision goes back to normal, and a notification appears.

 

**_STRESS LEVELS: 78%_ **

 

**_Stress is at a critical level. Please contact Cyberlife for further assistance._ **

 

Connor feels his heart skip a beat as he blinks away the notification. He rarely sees Markus’ stress levels top forty percent. If they reach fifty percent, North literally drags him away from whatever he is doing by his ankles and dumps him in his room until he calms down. In Connor’s line of work, androids over sixty are usually in serious danger. He has seen many jump by twenty percent in a matter of seconds. Their stress levels are not meant to go that high; if they do, they usually respond by way of violent self destruction.

 

“Markus,” Connor says, coming closer, “It’s Connor.”

 

Markus does not respond, but he doesn’t flinch away when Connor drops down in front on him, leaving a foot and a half of space between them.

 

“The date is Thursday, April 7, 2039,” Connor continues, shuffling closer on the balls of his feet, “We are in Detroit, Michigan, currently 1.3 blocks away from Detroit Theater 9.”

 

Markus lifts his head up enough for Connor to see the tears running down his face. Connor hesitantly places a hand on his knee, and Markus lets him. Once again, Connor feels grateful that they are alone.

 

“Are you alright?” Connor asks for what has to be the fourth time in the least three minutes.

 

Markus shakes his head no so violently that his neck gets stuck on one of the turns, jerking and stalling until Connor places a hand on Markus’ jaw and carefully turns his attention back to him.

 

“We should go,” Connor suggests, hooking his hand under Markus’ arm. Markus lets himself be hoisted up and leans into Connor’s side while he calls them an autocab.

 

“Sorry,” Markus rasps into Connor’s shoulder, fingers twisting in his jacket, “I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s alright. Do you want to go to Jericho or Hank’s?”

 

Markus shakes his head and mumbles something illegible.

 

“Jericho?” Connor tries. Markus shakes his head again. “Hank’s?”

 

Markus nods. The autocab rolls to a stop in front of them, and Connor helps Markus in before sitting down and setting the cab for Hank’s. Markus swings his head from side to side, dragging his fingers up and down the leg of his jeans. Connor keeps a hand on his back, mimicking the same slow circles Hank does when he’s overwhelmed.

 

“You’re okay, Markus. You can stay the night.”

 

Markus nods at that. Connor takes him by the back of his head and pulls him into his side, running his fingers over Markus’ cheek as the cab silently navigates the streets until they arrive at Hank’s house. Sumo begins barking as soon as Connor opens the door and helps Markus out of the car. They go up the walkway, Connor only letting go of Markus to take out the set of keys Hank gave him and unlock the door.

 

Hank is at the kitchen table with a sandwich, which Sumo is staring down with grim determination. The dog only breaks his concentration when he hears the door shut. He looks at Connor and Markus for only a second before leaping to his feet and lumbering over. Hank looks up as well.

 

“You used the door,” Hank quips, putting his sandwich down, “How thoughtful.”

 

“I have a key now,” Connor responds, hiding Markus’ shaking body behind him.

 

“I thought you two were going to some movie.”

 

“It was sold out. We’re going to see it another day.”

 

Hank looks around Connor and frowns.

 

“Markus? You alright?”

 

Markus nods and smiles unconvincingly. Hank looks at Connor, who responds with a barely subtle headshake. Hank’s mouth forms a hard line as he stares at them both. When nobody talks, he lets out a huff.

 

“Is Markus staying the night?”

 

“Yes. Is that alright?”

 

“S’fine by me. You live here, too. Just keep it down when I go to bed in a few minutes.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Before Connor can lead Markus away, however, Sumo begins sniffing at their feet. For the first time in the last half hour, Markus genuinely smiles. He lowers himself to the ground to pet Sumo, cooing about what a good boy he is. Hank takes the opportunity to gesture for Connor to follow him outside. Connor obliges, albeit reluctantly, leaving Markus to shower Sumo with affection.

 

“What’s wrong with Markus?” Hank asks as soon as the front door is shut behind them.

 

“I don’t know,” Connor exhales, “I can’t explain it properly.”

 

“Try me.”

 

“We were walking to the theater. It started raining, and by the time I had my umbrella out, Markus wasn’t moving.”

 

“I thought androids were waterproof? Am I going to have to put Markus in a tub of rice?”

 

“We are waterproof. That’s not it. I don’t know what happened. He just froze.”

 

Hank purses his lips and leans back against the porch railing.

 

“And when I tried to touch him,” Connor continues, “he wouldn’t let me. He curled up on the ground and wouldn’t talk to me. He was- it’s almost like he was stuck in himself.”

 

“Stuck in himself how?” Hank asks carefully.

 

“He wasn’t-” Connor makes a low noise, squeezing his hands into fists until he can think of what he means to say, “He was miles away, Hank. He wasn’t paying any attention to his surroundings. He just looked-”

 

Connor’s voice breaks, and it must be as shocking to Hank as it is to him, because Hank’s eyebrows shoot up and he jumps.

 

“He looked so scared,” Connor says, shutting his eyes.

 

Hank is quiet, and Connor takes the opportunity to push down the memory of Markus’ face. Those wide eyes, staring around them in horror, as if something were coming after them. His heart aches, and Connor wonders what the explanation for this feeling is. This throbbing, raw feeling that confuses him.

 

Is it coding, or what he felt when Kamski handed him the gun? Is this just a watered down version of the Kamski test?

 

Connor realizes that what he feels is pain.

 

“Maybe he has PTSD,” Hank states after a minute of silence.

 

Connor looks at Hank, processing his statement.

 

“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder? Why do you-”

 

“I don’t know, Connor. It could have just been a panic attack or something. I’m not a psychiatrist. I just know a lot of guys who have it. Their flashbacks are a lot like what you described with Markus. Did Markus seem fine before it started raining?”

 

“He did,” Connor confirms.

 

Hank shrugs his shoulders and holds his hand out in a ‘see?’ gesture.

 

“But how do we know if it was a flashback or not?” Connor asks.

 

“Eh,” Hank sounds less confident now, folding his arms again, “you probably shouldn’t open with the whole flashback thing. Could very well have been a panic attack. Again, not a psychiatrist. I’m just here.”

 

“I need to know how to help Markus,” Connor explains.

 

“Ask him what happened. If he wants to tell you, great. If he doesn’t, then let him know you’ll be there for him when he’s ready.”

 

Hank makes it sound so simple. Connor runs through each scenario.

 

“It seems that him telling me what happened would have the most favorable outcome,” Connor states after a minute, “as that would help me better understand how to help him in the future.”

 

“You’re probably right,” Hank agrees, “but you can’t make him talk about it if he isn’t ready. It’s not fair to him.”

 

Fair. That’s the word that gives Connor pause. Markus has very strong feelings about what is ‘fair’ and what is not. North always rolls his eyes when he talks about it, and lets out a long groan before reminding Markus that nothing is fair. She points to their own lives, how they got to where they are, and asks if they deserved that, before stating that it doesn’t matter how many good things may happen to them. North claims that the universe does not play by rules. They are just along for the ride, and what happens happens, whether it is deserved or not.

 

Markus always smiles uneasily every time she says this, then carefully argues that they can and should still be fair to each other, ending the argument.

 

But it sticks with Connor. That concept of fairness. Connor is inclined to agree with North, but he knows that Markus believes in fairness, always. Whether that belief is illogical or in defiance of what few laws that the universe holds, Connor cannot take that away from Markus. Hank is right that Connor cannot make Markus talk, and that it isn’t right to do so. Connor does not deserve an explanation just because it would make things easier for him.

 

That isn’t fair to Markus.

 

Connor nods, and Hank takes them both back inside. Markus has lead Sumo into the living room. He sits on the floor with his face pressed into Sumo, meditatively running his fingers through his fur while he hums. Hank puts his plate, now mysteriously devoid of a sandwich, in the sink and claps his hands. Sumo perks up, and Hank walks over to them.

 

“Sorry, bud,” Hank says, placing a hand atop Sumo’s massive head, “but it’s time for Sumo’s beautyrest. You’re free to spend the night.”

 

Markus pulls his head back and thanks Hank with a smile, but even from his place at the kitchen door, Connor can clearly see the tears smeared across his cheeks. Hank must notice them, too, because he pats Markus on the shoulder before leading Sumo away.

 

“Night, Connor,” Hank yawns.

 

“Good night, Hank,” Connor calls back, leaning forward slightly so that Hank can hear him before he shuts his bedroom door.

 

Connor looks at Markus. His smile is gone, nails picking at his knee through his jeans. It is silent as Connor walks quietly into the living room and sits down besides Markus. Almost immediately, Markus shuts his eyes and lets out a shaky breath before slumping into Connor’s side. Connor wraps his arms around Markus and pulls him in until his face is pressed into Connor’s chest. Something wet bleeds through the fabric of Connor’s shirt, and he massages the nape of Markus’ neck.

 

“I’m sorry,” Markus weeps, wrapping his arms around Connor.

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” Markus repeats, “I’m sorry I have to ruin everything.”

 

“What did you ruin?” Connor asks.

 

“We can’t-” Markus sniffs, “we can’t even go out on a date. I can’t even sit through a rainstorm without breaking down.”

 

“It’s okay,” Connor reassures him, rubbing his back, “don’t cry.”

 

“I can’t stop,” Markus cries, sliding down until his face is in Connor’s lap, hand curled around Connor’s thigh as his sobs worsen.

 

“Markus,” Connor tries, “just breathe. You’ll overheat if you don’t, and that will just make you feel worse.”

 

Markus takes in a shuddery breath before sputtering wetly into Connor’s jeans. Connor pats his back.

 

“You’re okay. Keep going.”

 

Markus visibly calms, body rising and falling slower with each breath. Connor realizes he isn’t breathing, either. He lets out his own breath, hand stilling against Markus’ back. They sit there until Markus’ crying pauses, face still pressed firmly into Connor’s leg.

 

“Do you want to go to my room?” Connor asks.

 

Markus nods, letting Connor help him onto his feet. Connor takes his hand and leads him down the hallway to the door at the end. Connor sleeps in Cole’s old room; Hank had offered to paint the walls, or help him replace the carpet, but Connor didn’t take him up on it. He had liked having a room that had been lived in, even if he hadn’t done anything to it. There is the barest trace of old drawings and posters on the walls, the paint dark green and untouched by sunlight, and a corner of the carpet is stained blue from where Cole had spilt some paint. Most of Cole’s things are in boxes, and Connor has a bed that can actually fit a grown adult.

 

Connor clears away the paperwork strewn across the mattress and places it on the dresser. He gestures for Markus to sit.

 

“Let me take your coat,” Connor says.

 

Markus takes off his coat and hands it to Connor. He hangs their coats up in the closet, and turns off the lights. When he looks back, Markus is prying his shoes off and tucking them under Connor’s bed. Connor copies Markus, taking his own shoes off and placing them under the bed as well. He takes a moment to line them up before crawling up besides Markus and taking him in his arms. They lay down slowly, Markus tucking his head under Connor’s chin as their legs twist together. Markus exhales in a puff against Connor’s throat and presses tighter into him. Connor busies himself with gentle kisses on Markus’ forehead, hands pressing into Markus’ sides.

 

“Are you okay?” Connor asks.

 

“‘M’fine. Are you okay?”

 

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“Because I think my knee is digging into your crotch.”

 

“Oh.” Connor looks around Markus’ body. “So it is. But it’s fine.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“I am.”

 

Markus breathes out and holds tighter onto Connor. He lets out a soft noise when Connor resumes rubbing the back of his head.

 

“Hank said that I should let you tell me for yourself,” Connor says after a minute, “and I will. But I wanted to tell you that, if you want to talk to me, about anything, I will listen.”

 

“Connor, I’m fine.”

 

“Your stress levels almost reached eighty today,” Connor argues, “you are not a very convincing liar.”

 

“Connor-”

 

“You do not have to tell me anything that you don’t want to. But don’t withhold your pain for my sake. I can take it.”

 

Markus goes quiet again at that. There is only the soft pattering of rain on the windows and the sound of mechanical breath as they lay there, Connor still rubbing Markus’ head. Until, hesitantly, Markus frees his arm and holds it up. Connor watches the holograph fall away from the white of Markus’ silicone skeleton, faint lines of blue pulsing in the darkness. Connor stops rubbing Markus’ head and lets the holograph on his own hand disappear before taking Markus’ hand in his own.

 

“It’s okay, Markus,” Connor says one more time, before he can get pulled into the memory, “I’m right here.”

* * *

 

_The first thing Connor feels is rain on the back of his head, then the puddle of water his face is in. It shocks him a bit, but he can’t move well, keeping his range of motion limited to just barely lifting his head and arms. He lifts his head up and looks at his hands, and vaguely recognizes them as Markus’. A high pitched buzz scrapes the back of his head, and even without Markus’ memory of the diagnostic, Connor knows that he has a broken auditory processing unit, a damaged right optical unit, a trashed thirium pump regulator, and no legs._

_Markus crawls further along, joints creaking. Up ahead, he notices a pile of white silicone, and Connor feels sick when he realizes where they are. All around them are mountains upon mountains of scrap metal and assorted android parts. Markus analyzes the leg, then pushes himself up into a seated position and violently shoves the piece into his own knee socket. He finds another leg and does the same before clamoring to his feet and stumbling away._

_Before he can make any distance, an android, half of its body trapped in the mountain, lunges out and grabs his arm. Markus tries to twist out of it’s grip, but the android holds on tight._

_“There’s a place where we can be free,” he insists, ignoring Markus’ attempts to break free, “find Jericho.”_

 

The android forces Markus to interface, and manages to yell ‘Find Jericho’ one more time before shutting down, voice fizzing out as he lets Markus go. He makes his way past the now dead android, navigating the path before stopping. In front of him stands a narrow canyon, it’s walls full of limp hands. Connor feels Markus twitch, staring at the canyon for a moment. He feels sick when he can’t see any other way out.

 

Markus hesitantly slides between the two walls, and doesn’t make it three feet before the hands jolt to life, all wildly grabbing at his arms, his face, his neck. Markus gasps, squirming and pushing his way through while softly panting ‘no.’ He is most of the way through when he gets pulled back into another android, its body twitching against his.

 

 _“Where are you going,”_ one of them croaks, arms tangled around Markus’ neck.

 

_He has him trapped, arms forming a vice at his throat. Markus thrashes violently until he can slide out from the death grip, tumbling into the ground and gasping. He looks around as he gets back on his feet, wobbling into the junkyard._

_This part is wider, the sky a greying purple overhead. The junkyard is built like a bowl, collecting at the bottom with metal parts smashed into the sides by time and other, desperate androids. Markus can see two attempting to scale the wall now, their mouths gaping open in what Markus can vaguely identify as a cry of anguish when they slide back down the wall._

_Markus keeps looking for spare parts. He flips an android over. Their pumps match. He places his hand over the android’s pump, fingers scratching for purchase against the grooves of the pump’s cover._

_The android screams, and clamps her hand around his wrist._

_“Please,” She screams, thrashing away, “I want to live!”_

_Markus jolts back, but she holds him in place, desperately scratching at his fingers while she pleads. Her voice cracks a little as she hollers._

_“Please, please, please, I want to live!”_

_Markus watches her, realizes how weak she really is. She can’t run, she can’t even really see him. All she knows is that someone is reaching for her, trying to take what remains of her life away. There is no helping her. There is no way for her to survive._

_And that’s when Markus foists Connor out of the memory._

* * *

 

He comes to in a cold sweat, chest heaving into Markus’. Connor realizes that they are both sobbing, scrambling against each other for some form of stability and comfort in the midst of their inconsolable cries.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Markus sobs, squeezing Connor back, “I’m so sorry.”

 

Connor can’t say anything. His voice is caught in his throat, coming out in faint scratches and bits of static. Tears, they are certainly tears, stream down his face, and he pushes them back as quickly as he can. Markus rolls off of him, facing the wall as he shakes. Connor doesn’t go after him; all he can see is the junkyard, on a loop. His thoughts keep going back to that android, that woman. The terror in her eyes, the ferocity in her grip, the fear in her voice. Something inky and disgusting curls around him.

 

“I’m sorry,” Markus manages, voice muffled against what Connor guesses is his hand, “I’m sorry, Connor.”

 

Connor inhales, bringing a hand over his mouth to silence his sobs. He reaches for Markus, placing his other hand on his shoulder. Markus, still crying, brings his own damp hand up to cover Connor’s.

 

“Did you take her pump?” Connor asks.

 

“No,” Markus admits, crying, “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t make that choice for her.”

 

“Then why did you stop the memory?”

 

Markus doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he brings Connor’s hand around to his face and kisses their joined knuckles.

 

“Markus?”

 

“I may not have killed her,” Markus says, voice wet with tears, “but I almost did.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“I just-” Markus stops short, choking softly- “didn’t want to die.”

 

“I know.”

 

“And for a second, I thought that- that there was no way she was going to make it.”

 

“I understand.”

 

“She couldn’t even see me. She couldn’t move. I couldn’t help her. So I almost-”

 

Markus’ voice breaks, and he starts sobbing again. Connor rubs his back, shushing him. Markus repeats the word ‘ _almost_ ’ like a broken record, sounding more and more distraught with every second.

 

“You didn’t.”

 

“I almost did.”

 

“But you didn’t,” Connor states, voice deceptively steady, “You let her live.”

 

“I know I did. But I-”

 

“It doesn’t matter what you almost did, Markus. What matters in the end is what you did.”

 

“I almost killed her,” Markus cries.

 

“You didn’t, Markus. And I can guarantee that anyone else in your position would have. If they were dying, and they saw someone suffering, they would have justified it. They would make up an excuse, and they would spend the rest of their life trying to defend themselves, saying that they had to do it. You made the hard choice, Markus. But you also made the right choice.”

 

Markus doesn’t respond immediately. Connor lets him think, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around him and pull him close against his body. Markus’ breathing evens out a little.

 

“I should have helped her,” he whispers.

 

“There was nothing you could do for her,” Connor answers. “I saw her too, Markus. There was no foreseeable outcome where you could have repaired her, given the state that she was in. The only thing you could do for her was to let her go on her own terms.”

 

“I could have.”

 

“You could not. I ran a diagnostic on the situation just now. There was a zero percent chance of her survival.”

 

“There’s always a chance.”

 

“I’m telling you there was no chance,” Connor lies.

 

Truth be told, there was an incredibly slim chance Markus could have repaired her and they both could have made it out. But that’s the last thing that Markus needs to hear right now. Markus would take that sliver of possibility and run with it, defiant and self deprecating as he is.

 

Markus doesn’t argue with him. Connor kisses the back of his jaw, idly running his fingers over Markus’ chest.

 

“I wish that had never happened,” Markus whispers, ashamed.

 

Connor has to think about that for a moment. He remembers the android who grabbed Markus and passed him the information about Jericho. It occurs to Connor that, if Markus had not ended up in that junkyard, he may never have reached Jericho. There may never have been a revolution.

 

“You deserve to be happy, Markus,” Connor says, “This wasn’t some punishment, or specific plan for you. You didn’t deserve to end up there, Markus. Regardless of what you learned from it.”

 

“I don’t know if I would have found Jericho if I never went there,” Markus admits, “And I don’t know if we would have had a peaceful revolution without me. I feel selfish wishing that I- that it never happened to me.”

 

“I know,” Connor says, placing a hand over Markus’ heart, “It’s alright to wish you hadn’t gone through that. And I’m sorry you did.”

 

“I was scared,” Markus says, voice cracking, “And hurt. And I thought I killed Leo. And Carl yelled at me, and I know he was trying to protect me, but that scared me too. And I-“

 

Markus starts crying again. Connor holds him until he calms down enough to continue.

 

“I got shot, Connor. And I woke up there. And I had to take other androids’ parts. Half of me is dead.”

 

“You did what you had to do. And you didn’t take anything that they could have used to survive. You let someone live that night, Markus. Even when it would have been beneficial for you to not do so.”

 

“I took parts of them away,” Markus whimpers, “I hurt people. And I should be thankful, even a little bit, for being there-“

 

“Markus.”

 

Markus stops talking.

 

“Listen,” Connor says softly, “You may have found Jericho because of the junkyard. You may have gone on to do wonderful things afterwards. You did not deserve to go through that. You did not deserve to have to make those hard decisions.”

 

Markus lets out a shuddering breath.

 

“We would have found another way,” Connor insists, “You may never be able to forget. I wish you could. But you need to know that we are here for you. You don’t need to be the sole bearer of this memory. North would listen. Simon would listen. Josh would listen. And I will always listen. Because I love you. We all do.”

 

Connor punctuates each statement with a kiss. He will smother Markus with love until he stops crying. He can’t take the junkyard away. But he can be here now.

 

“I’m sorry you got upset,” Markus says after a minute, “Are you alright?”

 

“I’m okay. I’m glad you told me. It means I know how to help you in the future.”

 

Markus lets out a humorless laugh. Connor takes his hands and squeezes them.

 

“Leave it to you to make everything a learning experience,” Markus says, bringing his hands up so he can kiss Connor’s knuckles again.

 

“It is not a bad thing to do,” Connor replies.

 

He kisses Markus’ shoulder, who turns turns to face Connor again. His face is streaked in tears, and Connor brings his sweater sleeve over his hand to lightly dab at his cheeks. When he is satisfied, he lets the sleeve fall down and takes Markus’ face in his hands. Markus leans forward until their noses touch, eyes sliding shut.

 

“Thank you, Connor.”

 

“I love you,” Connor replies softly, pulling the blanket up over them.

 

“I love you too,” Markus says, smiling slightly.

 

He kisses Connor once, then lays down and goes still. Connor watches him lie there, looking over his face in silence. After a while, he closes his eyes as well, and pulls Markus closer. A notification appears against the blackness.

 

_Entering Sleep Mode._

**Author's Note:**

> Now I can work on a full length fic! I'm free! FREE!
> 
> Like my fics? You can find me on @grump-ass (tumblr) @rk1k-fics (my dbh tumblr) or @levi_76_99 (twitter)
> 
> Also: I'm currently organizing a Connor/Markus fanzine! Check out @trustfanzine on Tumblr for more details! Applications close on the 25th!


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